Stopping gang violence, one banger at a time.

Chicago epidemiologist Gary Slutkin likens societal
violence to bubonic plague in its capacity to spread uncontrollably
through a cycle of retribution and domination. His urban organization,
CeaseFire, tackles the Windy City’s never-ending epidemic of gang
violence much like a doctor might attack an outbreak: on a case-by-case
basis. The group comprises reformed gangbangers and hustlers who take to
the most crime-riddled areas of the city to coax enraged thugs to lay
down their arms, if only for a moment. Because of their past criminal
notoriety—CeaseFire workers include former vice lords, murderers and
hustlers—they can often prevent gang members from pulling the trigger.
Often, of course, they can’t.

Hoop Dreams director Steve James’ searing new documentary, The Interrupters,
follows CeaseFire’s team for a year in the trenches—2009-10, when
gang-related killings reportedly outnumbered U.S. casualties in
Afghanistan and Iraq, and when the beating death of 16-year-old Derrion
Albert caused a media storm in the projects when it appeared on YouTube.
With unparalleled access, James follows three principal “violence
interrupters”—charismatic reformed gang leader Ameena Matthews (daughter
of notorious gangster Jeff Fort), haunted Latino
murderer-turned-street-savior Eddie Bocanegra and former hustler Cobe
Williams—as they mediate between various rival gangs to help prevent
bloodshed.

The Interrupters
is a harrowing journey through the streets, troubled high schools, the
projects and the endless series of funerals of a city in turmoil—where
politicians consider deploying the National Guard to quell violence,
innocents are killed by stray bullets, and a shit-talking session
results in one gangbanger smashing another’s face with a concrete block.
James’ camera catches it all, from moments of unspeakable horror—such
as a slain teen’s memorial service where family members fear ambush by a
rival gang—to moments of unexpected hope, including an ex-con’s
emotional apology to the family he held at gunpoint. If there’s anything
wrong with the picture, it’s that, at 125 minutes, it’s simply too
short to tell all the captivating stories with the full detail each
deserves.

Yet The Interrupters
never becomes unfocused, nor does it relent in its portrait of entire
communities held captive by impending doom. At one point, the camera
pans through a tunnel where the names of dozens of murder victims are
painted on the bricks. It pauses briefly on a brick that reads “I am
next.” It’s alarming in its frankness, and that inevitability permeates
every moment of The Interrupters. CeaseFire’s goal is to prove
the author of that grim sentence—and countless others who share that
fatalism—wrong. Their work is endlessly inspiring, and James’
presentation of their stories is a triumph.